


I know no other way

by cestbelle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7976545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestbelle/pseuds/cestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark and Jon Snow have known each other for years, and their relationship has never been as easy as with everyone else. She was the model child of the Upper East Side society and he was a bastard from Brooklyn, but, much to her disdain, they were inextricably connected by her own family. That was, until he left a mark in her and moved across the country, never to be seen in New York again for the next three years. Now he's back and they'll be thrusted closer than they've ever been. </p>
<p>This was supposed to be my entry to the Jon x Sansa Remix, as a reimagining of Gossip Girl's Dan/Blair, but life got in the way, I missed the deadline and I'm pretty sure this will become its own thing now, kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sansa

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be my entry to the Jon x Sansa Remix, as a reimagining of Gossip Girl's Dan/Blair, though a tenuous one, I suppose. But life got in the way, I bit more than I could chew with the structure of this and I missed the deadline, and I'm pretty sure this will become its own thing now, kind of.
> 
> As per usual, I own nothing, not the characters nor the Gossip Girl references.
> 
> I apologise in advance for any errors, especially in grammar, as english is not my first language and no matter how much I try, I'm bound to slip.
> 
> This is structured between flashbacks and present time. I'll always start with a flashback (1) and then get to present time (2).
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it and feedback is always welcome 
> 
> xoxo

\--------------- 1 ---------------

Sansa was twelve when she first met Jon Snow. Her older brother Robb having taken his new friend home after the first week of high school, so they could talk about some sport thing they were together in. It was hard to know exactly which one, with Robb playing tennis, lacrosse and basketball, but if she had to guess she'd say basketball, if only because his old sneakers would look out of place in a tennis court or lacrosse field.

Her first thought was how amusing he looked next to her brother, the two making complete contrast of each other, Robb being all colours with his red hair and blue eyes and new expensive uniform, while Jon looked completely desaturated, with his pale skin, dark hair, grey eyes and faded old clothes. His clothes were actually a contrast to every single object on the Starks Upper East Side penthouse. She couldn't help but laugh as she saw him there. When Robb told her off she apologised but left the room smirking. Jon Snow was going to get eaten alive if he actually went to Robb's school. Kids like him didn’t usually thrive on the classist environment of the exclusive private schools in New York.

Jon Snow, however, kept coming back, growing closer with Robb and her other siblings to Sansa’s own befuddlement. Even her father seemed fond of that boy, who would do nothing for them besides being good at tennis (which she had to admit surprised her, Jon Snow didn’t look like the kind of guy who was good at tennis), he had no connections that they knew of and seemed completely uninterested in what went on with Manhattan’s upper class. She remarked that to Robb once and her older brother simply laughed her off. As if he himself didn’t groan anytime his name was mentioned as the jock, older son of CEO of Stark Inc., Eddard Stark, in the magazines. As if he himself didn’t know the importance of keeping the family’s good image.

She could understand Arya, Bran and Rickon not caring, they were only children, after all, still not capable of understanding how much the Stark family name meant, how old and important it was.

He bewilderment with her siblings’ friendship to Jon Snow only worsened when she found out he was actually the fruit of Rhaegar Targaryen’s indiscretion. Jon Snow was the son of the heir of the Dragon Inn chain and some artist woman from Brooklyn. At first she thought maybe that was what Jon Snow brought to the table was a connection to the Targaryens, but on that same breath she found out Jon had no relationship with his father or any of his family, apart from a rare exchange during the holidays. The only thing his father did for him was paying for a good school and signing alimony checks.

The fact that a nobody bastard from Brooklyn was constantly seen at their home, hanging out with her brother, was bound to be cause for embarrassment for their family soon enough, and he was probably just trying to climb social ranks on their backs, since he couldn’t count on his father.

It was on a Thanksgiving brunch, the year Jon Snow came into their lives, that the true defining moment in their relationship came to pass. She was sitting in the terrace wit Jeyne Poole, Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey Baratheon, talking about their classmates, Joffrey flirting with her as he always did.

All was right until Robb and Jon showed up, along with Theon Greyjoy and Jon Umber II to smoke in secret, she assumed, as they always did, they walked to the other side of the terrace, standing in a circle. She grimaced at the thought of Jon Snow being in the Stark’s famous Thanksgiving brunch when Margaery asked:

“Who is _that_?” Sansa heard her friend’s voice carry all the way to her brother and his friends, and saw as the four of them turned their heads to her group. She had forgotten Margaery went to a boarding school, therefore had never seen Jon Snow around.

Apparently Margaery had forgotten that she was supposed to have a crush on Robb, because she was eyeing Jon with decided interest. Sansa made a mental note to recite to her friend all of the reasons liking the new guy was inappropriate.

“That’s Rhaegar Targaryen’s bastard, isn’t it Sansa?” Joffrey scoffed, making Sansa chuckle.

“Shut the fuck up, you little shit!” Robb squinted his eyes at Joffrey from across the terrace, taking a drag from the blunt in his hands.

“Make me, Stark. I won’t come over there and punch your face because there are ladies present.” Sansa couldn’t help raising one eyebrow, but whatever thought she had was lost when her brother and his friends started laughing.

“Do you hear that guys? The ten-year-old thinks he can beat me.” Robb scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.” Sansa could see Joffrey start to protest that he was almost thirteen, when he got interrupted.

“Let it go, Robb, he’s only a kid.” She heard Jon Snow say.

“A little shit is what he is.” Robb just rolled his eyes, turning his back to them.

“At least my father wanted me and doesn’t throw money at me so he doesn’t have to see me.” Joffrey smirked, a cruel smirk Sansa wasn’t used to seeing. It made his face a lot less pleasant, but the reason she flinched was because Joffrey wasn’t supposed to know Rhaegar Targaryen paid for Jon’s studies.

She had the decency to feel bad when Jon looked at her and her group with complete disdain and left the terrace and when Robb all but charged at her.

“You told _him_? About Jon’s life? Seriously, Sansa? When are you going to grow up?”

“Well, Robb, to be fair she is only thirteen.” Theon added with a smirk. “And she wasn’t telling any lies.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not her life.”

“Are you going to tell father?” Sansa managed to ask, in a small voice. She knew her father had become quite fond of Jon, and she didn’t want to have him angry at her because of that.

“Not if you apologise to Jon.” Robb decreed.

“Do I have to? I didn’t do anything; it’s not like I said anything to Jon. It’s really not my fault he’s only a bastard.”

“No, it’s not.” She turned to face Jon Snow himself who had come back for some reason.

The older boy had a rare red tinge to his cheeks, one that, from the feeling of heat creeping up her face Sansa was pretty sure paled in comparison to hers. He looked angry and sad, and even though she hadn’t said any lies, she did feel a bit bad about how he was clearly distraught, even if she didn’t really see how that was due to any fault of hers.

“I am a bastard. But you still know nothing about my life, Sansa. So please, do try not to talk about it to your… friends.” He said the word friends with such ferocity and contempt, that its meaning seemed the complete opposite of what it was supposed to be, like Joffrey, Margaery and Jeyne were not really her friends. “Your parents are calling.” He told Robb and turned to go away again.

Jon Snow remained friends with her brother, and it was safe to say that, despite all that had changed since then, their relationship had been cold and cordial, at best, when it needed to be. Like on Robb’s 18th birthday, when she needed his help to cover up the fact that Robb had decided that borrowing their father’s Mercedes was the best way to celebrate and needed time to put it back in the garage before Ned would find out… Or during that time when…

She cleared her head of that thought. That had been years ago and she didn’t want to think about _that_. Not when she had just heard her internship supervisor would be none other than Jon Snow. It sounded like payback for all the times she had been borderline cruel to him.

 

\--------------- 2 ---------------

She stood at the reception of N. Watch Mag, one of the hippest pop culture and trends magazines she could have possibly hoped to work for. It covered every one of her interests, from books to movies and fashion, and she was actually surprised when her internship application was accepted, since her GPA had been severely affected by all the issues she had on her freshman year, and her essay hadn’t been particularly strong. But they saw something in her, and she wasn’t about to complain about the opportunity.

She kind of just wished Jon wasn’t her supervisor.

When she first heard the news she hoped at least it would a large group of interns, so he’d be less likely to her much mind, but she soon realised there were only three interns. Her, Mya Stone, a girl from her modern literature class with whom she had developed an easy friendship last semester, and a guy who introduced himself as Harry Hardyng, who went to the Eerye University and seemed nice enough.

“I thought they usually had more interns.” Harry said as they waited. “And I thought this Jon guy told us on the e-mail that he’d be here at 9 a.m. sharp.”

“Well, from what I know, they usually take five interns each summer, must have been a bad year.” Mya noted. “Isn’t Jon Snow your friend, Sansa? I remember you used to talk to him when we started school… He was a senior.” She explained Harry.

“I didn’t know you knew Jon Snow.” Sansa frowned a bit.

“I don’t. I googled him when he e-mailed us, saw he went to NYU and his profile showed we had some friends in common, including you, then I remembered seeing you two together.”

“He’s friends with my brother. But I haven’t seen Jon Snow in years. Since he graduated really. Robb said he had gone to California to work. I had no idea he was back until the e-mail…” She mused. “Great detective work, though.”

“Thanks. Actually it’s a bad habit from all the ‘investigative reporting’ I did at the school newspaper.” Mya chuckled, and their conversation was interrupted by a familiar deep and raspy voice.

“Hello, interns.”

Sansa turned to face Jon and if he was at all concerned about working with her, he didn’t show.

“Sorry about the time, I was getting these.” He showed them three passes. “They never have those done in time.” He sighed. “Ok, let’s see… Harrold Hardyng…” He motioned with one of the passes and handed it to Harry, when he stepped forward. “Mya Stone…” Mya did the same, putting the lanyard around her neck immediately. “… and Sansa Stark.”

He looked at her and Sansa couldn’t help blushing. He had changed some in the last three years and didn’t look as on edge as he always had, but it was the complete lack of reaction to her that bothered her the most. Was he pretending not to know her? Considering how they had left things, how much he knew, that had hurt her ego, even if she didn’t expect him to be any friendlier than he needed to be.

“Welcome to N. Watch. I’m Jon Snow, as you all know, I’ll be your supervisor. I’ll be the one giving you your tasks, from the ones the senior writers pass on to me. I’ll also be the intermediary between you and them. As you know we write about a number of topics, so you must be prepared to handle any kind of task, from fact checking numbers, to researching and yes, to grabbing coffee for the staff, sometimes, among other things. Should we star the tour?” He asked, already leading them to the elevator.

The magazine took up two floors of the building they were in. They had a small room with five cubicles on the first floor, near the supply closet. The rest of the first floor harboured the reception, two large meeting rooms, where, Jon explained, they also held larger briefings, when needed, and the servers.

The second floor housed the senior and junior journalists, and the editors. It was a surprisingly small staff, 15 journalists, three editors and an editor-in chief. Jon explained the designers worked on another location and they freelanced a lot of content, including photographers, to make up for the small staff, that was divided in three main editorial lines: Indie, Trends and Pop Culture. He was a junior writer in the indie editorial, he added, but since he’d also be supervising them that summer, he’d be doing most of his work on the first floor with them.

During the tour Jon introduced them to the editors: Indie was headed editor was this Spanish woman named Sarella Sand, Trends editor was Rhaenys Targaryen, who made sure to introduce herself as Jon’s older sister, and Pop Culture was commanded by Renly Baratheon. The mere mention of the name made Sansa tense up. Renly was Joffrey’s “uncle” after all, but the man, recognising her made sure to act amiable, making a passing joke about knowing her family. She couldn’t help but notice Jon watching her carefully at that moment and she wished he wouldn’t.

They went back to their small room, after being told editor in chief Maege Mormont was occupied and would meet them as soon as possible.

“Well, no rest then, you should dive into it.” Jon said, picking up some folders. “Ok, we have fact checking for Sarella… Harry, she’s trying to write a profile on Tyrion Lannister and his indie movies, here’s a draft and a list of facts that need checking, for you to start working with. I’m sure you’ll find others to check while reading.” Harry picked up the folder and sat on a cubicle. “Mya, you will be doing some preliminary research on George Martin, Loras on pop culture will be interviewing him on Thursday, Here’s a list of questions, mark ones he already answered exhaustively, ones he never did and the ones with unsatisfactory answers. Sansa, curate some photos of trendy sandals this summer, Rhaenys and Talla asked to avoid gladiators.”

Sansa blinked at the task, but picked up the folder he handed her and picked an available cubicle, starting the computer. She logged in with the information Jon had given them earlier, and started going through summer fashion shows, trying to find a common trend. It was something she loved doing in her spare time, yet, as she saw and hear Mya and Harry furiously typing, she got bored really soon.

“I’m done.” She turned to Jon. “Is there anything else?”

She wasn’t prepared for the look he gave her then. It was the first time that morning he had shown in any manner that he knew who she was, and it was a cold and annoyed look, that made her feel eighteen again. That angered her, that he made her feel like all the growth she had gone through the last three years meant nothing, and she shook her head emphatically, in a silently petulant “so?”.

“I suppose you can handle the clippings, then.” He reached for a huge pile of recent magazines and newspapers, dumping it on her cubicle. “It’ll be all yours for the week, Sansa. Have fun.”

She looked from it to Jon, who had already gone back to whatever he was writing, seemingly completely satisfied with himself.


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time Jon saw Sansa.  
> And now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to update this daily, but since it's a holiday where I live, and I'm not sure how often I'll be updating, I'll leave you guys with a new chapter today :)
> 
> This one was... hard to write and I'm nervous about posting it.   
> The "abuse" tag refers to it, so you should be warned. I hope I did justice to it.  
> Appreciate all and any feedback.

Jon couldn’t help thinking about the last time he had seen Sansa, as he caught, on her peripheral vision, her outrage staring at him. That had the effect to make him forget to feel pleased for annoying her.

Even if he didn’t like Sansa Stark too much, he had a heart, and that day still brought bitter memories to his mind. All things he had tried really hard not to think about for three years, whenever Robb or Arya brought Sansa up in a conversation.

He was finally moving out of his dorm, finally graduating college and ready to take a job across the country, away from the toxic proximity of his grandfather. Away from the snobbery and drama of Manhattan. He regretted leaving his mother behind. And the Starks – most of them, anyway. But he couldn’t manage staying there another second longer than he needed to.

All his stuff was already in boxes on his mother’s house, except for a few books he had needed for references to a last minute short story he decided to write to submit to be published, and he had just come back for them and to return the keys to his room. He found himself surprisingly nostalgic as he perused the empty room before closing the door. Even if the corridors were still filled with sophomores and juniors, his floor still felt pretty empty without all, or most the seniors.

He was musing on the merits of nostalgia goggles when he heard a small sob on a nearby hallway that seemed particularly empty. Not being one to ignore people in suffering, Jon followed the noise, to assess whether or not his help would be necessary.

He wasn’t ready to see a familiar set of blue eyes, in a paler than usual face, adorned by auburn hair looking back at him, glossy with tears. It wasn’t the tears that caught his eyes, though, as he walked close to Sansa Stark, sitting on the floor across from him. It was the busted lip and the fast forming bruises on her light arms,

He was soon kneeling in front of her, holding her face still as he examined the blood on her lip. Didn’t even thinking about what she was doing even doing there at all, those first few minutes.

“Please, don’t tell Robb. Or father… Or anyone.” She said, in a small, broken voice, he barely recognised as belonging to the arrogant girl he had known for what felt like forever. “He was out of control, Jon… I… I didn’t do anything, I swear. It’s not my fault.”

“I didn’t think it was…” He whispered back, in shock that she would even say such a thing. He highly doubted Ned or Robb would think that either. For all her faults, he couldn’t think of a damned thing Sansa could have done so that him finding her bruised and battered on a dorm hallway could be her fault.

He was still holding her face and his words seemed to cause more sobs, and she leaned her head on his shoulder crying even harder then. He let her, rubbing her arms gently until she seemed to calm down. She pulled back when she was done, her eyes focused on a wet spot on his shoulder.

“I’ve ruined your shirt… There’s blood… Blood?” She reached a hand to her broken lip, apparently not having noticed the injury before.

Jon feared that would prompt more tears, but that didn’t happen. Instead she pulled her knees up, getting eerily quiet. He sat down beside her, wondering what to do, what to say. To his surprise, he couldn’t find the words, so he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her to him, silently comforting her until he heard small sobs again. That seemed to indicate she had moved away from that shell shocked reaction so he looked at her again.

“You need to wash the blood.” He said gently tugging her to stand up. “My room is on the next corridor over,”

She just watched him, as if in awe and nodded slowly, allowing him to help her up and walk her to his old room. He was glad he hadn’t given back the key yet, and that he still had a few hours to do so.

The sight of Sansa Stark sitting quiet on his (old) dorm bed was, at the very least awkward, though the word he would have used to describe it was definitely “preposterous”, even if his creative writing teachers had always told him to tone down the dramatic adjectives. That seemed like a dramatic enough situation to deserve the word, but the fact was that there was nothing that could be misconstrued as ‘ridiculous’ about it.

He found a clean towel he was almost leaving behind and soaked it with water and sat beside her, pressing it gently to her lip, even as she winced.

“Sorry. I wish I had some ice too. It would help…”

“You’re moving out. Graduating, that’s right.” She said,

“Finally.” He nodded, cleaning the blood as best as he could from her face and lips. “Sansa… What happened? What are you even doing here? You don’t even live in the dorms, do you?”

“There’s a party going on… Somewhere. I came with Joffrey…”

“Did he do that to you?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

He remembered Joffrey Baratheon quite well, he had been a little shit when they were only kids and only gotten worse with age. He often heard Robb ask what Sansa had seen in him and even though Jon was pretty sure he knew the answer (a pretty face, money and prestige), he avoided telling that to his friend. At the light of recent events though, Jon had to wonder if that was the first time Sansa was left hurt and asked the same question himself.

“Yes. He saw me talking to a friend and… But I swear, I didn’t do anything. I try to avoid talking to people when Joffrey is around, because he gets… But Podrick came talking to me and it would be really rude to ignore him. He’s in my Introduction to Music class… But I was only being polite. I wasn’t flirting or anything. I tried explaining that to Joffrey but he said we had to leave… He took me to the stairs and just…” Jon watched her, anger boiling inside him as he saw her sob as she told her story. “He went crazy. He started shaking me and calling me a stupid whore and a dumb slut and… And saying I always try to catch other guys’ attentions… I don’t. I really don’t… Then he started punching the wall next to my head and then… And then I guess… I guess he hit my face… He must have not meant to, he has always avoided it before, because he let go of my arm and suddenly realised his knuckles were hurt too. And I ran. Downstairs, I think. I heard him calling me… Calling me names too, but I guess he must have attracted someone’s attention before, because I hear another voice and he didn’t follow me… And then I got tired of running and came out on your floor.”

Jon was shaking once she finished telling him everything. It hadn’t been the first time from what he could gather. Yet Joffrey had managed to convince Sansa that, somehow, she was to blame for his behaviour. For his being a little shit. A huge shit, actually.

“Sansa, listen to me. None of this is your fault. He’s shit, he’s always been shit. You see it now, don’t you? It’s all him.” That seemed to make her stop crying and look at him slightly outraged.

“You think I’m stupid for not noticing before, don’t you?” There was outrage and hurt in her voice, and even though deep down it was true, that he thought she had been silly and blinded by Joffrey’s look and name to fully comprehend how awful he was, that was not at all what Jon had been trying to say.

“That’s not what matters right now, Sansa. You have to tell your family. And press charges against him.”

“And now I’m too stupid to know what to do?”

“Gods, no, Sansa. Just… Just let me get you home, alright? I’ll shut up and stop making everything worse, I promise. But you need to go home, rest and talk to your family. I promise I’m not trying to start anything here.”

“I… I know, I’m sorry… I just… It’s you, I suppose I’m used to expecting a smart insult when you think I won’t notice, at times.” Jon had the good sense to blush at that, especially because apparently she had noticed those times, just had been ignoring them.

“I wouldn’t do that now. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

She let him guide her to his old truck and they drove in silence, until he stopped by her building. He expected her to immediately open the door and leave, but instead she fidgeted for a bit with her seatbelt, before turning to him.

“I know we’re not friends. And I know you probably only helped me in respect to my family but… Thank you. You were… well, helpful.” She nodded curtly and moved to leave his car.

“I helped you because I would have helped anyone in this situation.” He said simply. “And if you need me to testify or anything, I’m leaving to California on Saturday.”

She gave a short nod again, and left his car. He didn’t see her again until three years later.

 

\----------------2---------------

Harry and Mya had suggested going out to celebrate the first day of their internship. He had assumed they had only meant the three of them, the interns, until Mya picked up her jacked and asked him if he wasn’t coming. He glanced at Sansa, who responded with a noncommittal shrug.

He had decided to clear the air with her, before things escalated again in this new environment. He had heard she had changed, though she still looked the same, basically everything he hated about the Upper East Side distilled into one 95-pound, doe-eyed, bonmot-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil. Though, he supposed, maybe she wasn’t evil anymore. He hadn’t seen that streak all day.

And truth be told, he knew she wasn’t really the same person. For instance, Mya wasn’t exactly the kind of person Sansa would’ve been friends with in the past, she was on NYU on a scholarship, and hailed from Leadville, Colorado. She had none of the stuff Sansa looked for in her friends back then, yet the two seemed to be somewhat close, which surprised him. His distrust of her was still relevant enough, however, that he thought maybe she was only looking at Mya as a charity case, something to stroke her ego.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t keep making assumptions and letting her make assumptions either. They were older and supposed to be more mature, now, maybe it was time to give her the benefit of the doubt and build, at least, a good professional relationship, even if they were never really going to be friends. They had managed civility before, hadn’t they?

With all that in mind he agreed and went to pick up his things upstairs, telling the interns he’d meet them at the bar across the street soon.

The first thing he did, though, was text Robb.

 **Jon:** I’m pretty sure your sister still doesn’t like me.

 **Robb:** Non-sense. She was nervous about meeting you today, I’m still mad at you for not telling you’re back. As is my other sister. You might as well take advantage of one Stark not having particularly negative thoughts about you, until you make things up with us.

 **Jon:** I promise I will. I told you it was all very sudden. My grandfather died not even two weeks ago and Rhaenys was dragging me back here. We’re going to happy hour. Me and the interns. Including Sansa. I still maintain she doesn’t like me. But I don’t want things to be the same as they were before.

 **Robb:** Just talk to her, Snow. She doesn’t want that either, I promise. She wouldn’t shut up about it yesterday.

 **Jon:** Are you sure? She was glaring at me.

 **Robb:** What did you do?

 **Jon:** Why would I have done anything?

 **Robb:** Because you don’t know her anymore, so you’re most likely to treat her like you did before.

 **Jon:** She looked the same to me.

 **Robb:** On the outside, sure. But… I know we didn’t talk about that day, but we know you were the one who helped her, Jon. And you have no idea what happened after. What she went through. Or the impact you had on her that day. You never cared to follow up, and I get it. You wanted out of UES drama. You barely kept in touch with me. And I get why. But that also means you don’t know anything about us anymore, man. That includes Sansa. Just talk to her and come over later so I can throttle you.

 **Jon:** Well, that was a great guilt trip, thanks for the ride, man. I’m gonna go subject myself to Princess Sansa’s judgment then.

 **Robb:** That attitude isn’t going to help, just so you know. Bye.

With that last message, Jon gathered his things and went to meet the interns.

They were sitting on a booth already drinking beers, Mya said something that made Harry laugh loudly, while Sansa chuckled prettily. She seemed genuinely amused, if a little contained, and considering the little he heard from whatever tale the other girl was telling, he was pretty sure it was something that old Sansa would have turned up her nose at. Maybe Robb was right and she wasn’t the same girl he had met ten years ago.

“Hey, sorry, that took a while longer than I expected.” He joined them, the only free space being besides Sansa, so he sat quietly, putting his jacket on the seat between them.

“We ordered you a beer too, but it was getting warm, so Mya and Harry took it.” Sansa said, simply. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, we can get more.” He said, looking for a server, ordering another round, before turning back to them.

“Mya was telling us about some hikers that went to her hometown and got lost, but were actually only one mile away from the city.” Harry supplied.

“That story is over, though.” Mya shrugged.

“Sounds like an amusing little story. Were they all alright?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, they were. Scared as shit though.” She chuckled. There was an awkward pause after that.

“So, Jon, how was California?” Sansa asked politely.

“Different. I kind of miss it. No one cared who I was.” He noticed her blush, and look a little contradicted and realised it sounded like a jab at her.

That made him feel like an asshole, considering he was supposed to be trying to make things better between them. She had been the one bringing up a polite topic and he had been the asshole. That had been a change he didn’t really appreciate, since he fancied himself a decent guy. For all of his and Sansa’s past troubles, he had committed himself to getting to know her again, and that was definitely not the way.

“I’m sorry. Sansa, can we talk? Outside...” He asked her, though it sounded more like a demand than how he had planned. He noticed Mya and Harry exchange glances and Sansa nodded and they both went outside.


	3. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback.
> 
> In this chapter things start getting a bit Gossip-Girl-crazy, I go off in an Olympic tangent and all the Starks remain overachiever assholes.

\---------------1--------------------

She didn’t really expect Jon to ask to talk to her in private. That had only happened once, since she could remember and it hadn’t exactly been something she thought he had been particularly proud of.

It all started with Jeyne Westerling.

She had, apparently, come from Los Angeles to finish her studies at the Aegon Hall Academy when Robb and Jon were in their senior years, and Sansa was a freshman there. She immediately latched onto Robb, which was enough to make Sansa suspicious. Sure, her brother was supposed to be attractive and he was charming and not a complete beast of a guy. That with his name and family sure made him a better catch than almost anyone in the school.

The main issue was how fast they were going. That was decidedly uncharacteristically like her brother. Not that he was a player, he was too much of a gentleman for that and he had actually only had two long term relationships before. Margaery when he was 15 and then Roslin Frey almost immediately after that. Those were the only two girls Robb had ever given the time of his life. Ever. Both relationships lasted longer than a year too, and he had broken up with Roslin that summer only because she had gone live with her mother in Germany. But, more importantly, both those times he had taken at least six months to admit to anyone things were serious. Before that he was always getting to know each other.

With Jeyne Westerling, they had met the first day of school and by the next Sunday, after some party Theon Greyjoy had thrown for the seniors, they were dating and never leaving each other’s side. And there was just something about the girl that made Sansa really, really weary.

She wasn’t sure if it was the way she clung to Robb’s arm all the time, like an eagle holding a prey, or how the girl’s sweet smiles made her sick, or, and maybe that was the biggest thing, every time she visited the Stark’s penthouse her eyes seemed to glow at the sight of everything in there.

She watched both of them like a harpy, every time they were on the same environment, to the point of annoying her own friends, and to make Robb ask her to stop picking on Jeyne. Which was unfair, as she barely ever exchanged more than three words with her: hi, bye and Jeyne.

She was definitely surprised when one day, as she got home, Jon approached her, his disgust with himself quite apparent as he pressed his lips before saying:

“We need to talk.” And quickly adding. “About Robb and Jeyne.”

Sansa eyed him suspiciously.

“Are you going to ask me to stop glaring at her as well?”

“No. I’ve been told to stop doing that myself. It’s just… There’s something seriously wrong there...” Sansa raised one eyebrow.

“Ok, meet me in one hour, on that coffee house next to your mother’s gallery.”

“One… Wait, what? Why can’t we talk here and now?” He looked at her confused.

“Plausible deniability. If we’re going to do this, do you really want Arya or Bran telling Robb we’ve been talking? Not to mention, no one would ever be looking for me in Brooklyn.” She could hear him rolling his eyes as she scheduled a massage appointment on her phone, not looking at him. “Quit it with the self-righteousness, Snow. You know very well we are going to plot how to get rid of her.”.

She heard him sigh and leave and went to her bedroom to take a shower and change out of her school uniform, before she could go meet him.

She found him drinking coffee and reading a book of Pablo Neruda’s sonnets, which actually surprised her. She had no idea Jon Snow had a taste for poetry, much less poetry she herself liked. He was probably the only other person she knew who would read Pablo Neruda in a coffee shop and suddenly she felt a small connection to him, which caught her off guard. She found herself unsure of what to say to him, until he looked up and saw her and his eyes were filled with the usual mix of annoyance and contempt he reserved just for her. That quickly vanquished that small moment and she walked to him purposefully, sitting down.

“What do you know, Snow?”

“Hello yourself, Sansa. Welcome to Brooklyn.” He said sarcastically, which made her roll her eyes. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Coffee is fine. Black. Do you know if they have lemon cakes?” He looked as if he was going to mock her request and suddenly frowned.

“Actually, they do have lemon cake.” He called for a barista and ordered another cup of coffee for himself, as well.

“Now we’re all about to get our fill of caffeine, can you tell me what you know?

“What makes you think I know anything?” He closed his book and leaned back on his chair, lazily, probably looking a fine contrast to her perfect posture.

“You were at the party, weren’t you? Theon’s party. The one they started dating at…”

“Yes, I was.” Jon sighed. “That’s actually what worries me. Robb doesn’t talk about that party and every time someone mentions something that went on there he looks uncomfortable and tries to change the subject. And he looks at Jeyne the strangest way possible.”

“What happened there? You weren’t with him the whole time?”

“No, he disappeared not long after the party started. No one really saw him, so I figured he had decided to bail because we were supposed to have a doubles practice match against the Walders the next day and he didn’t want to be hungover for that, you know how he hates losing, even when it doesn’t count for anything…”

“Yes, I am familiar with how competitive my brother is.” She nodded.

“Except he had been with Jeyne all night, no one knows where. And he still showed up at the court looking like hell, so he must have partied some.”

“That… is definitely weird. Robb never gets too drunk when he has a match, even practice matches.”

“Yes, I am familiar with how competitive my partner is.” Jon quipped back.

“And they were already officially dating then?” She ignored him, as he had ignored her.

“He took her to the club to watch us play.” That made Sansa raise an eyebrow. “She’s supposed to be the daughter of this big Californian politic isn’t she? I thought you would approve.”

“Big is a bit of an overstatement. He’s an assemblyman, though he’s poised to get a seat on the State’s Senate come next elections…” She said matter of factly and his surprised look amused her. “What, I can google things. But it’s not her parents that bother me, even though they are an upstart family. Lucky enough to have bought a good vineyard in California like forty years ago. Ridiculous name, though The Crag. Sounds like cheap wine, doesn’t it? It’s pretty good, though.”

“It does, indeed, though I’m more concerned about the fact that you know it’s actually good and one hundred percent not surprised you’d think a 40-year-old fortune is an upstart…”

“That’s still neither here nor there. Jeyne is… I don’t trust her. I don’t trust the hold she has on my brother and I don’t trust her intentions. She always looks like she’s looking ahead and not at him. And Robb deserves better than that. One would think his overachiever ass would be trying to overachieve in his relationships as well…”

“Well, you’re all insufferable overachievers, yet you’re stuck with Joffrey Baratheon, so maybe there’s a pattern.” She glared at him, so hard he flinched, which wasn’t something he did too often. “Ok, not the point, I get it.”

“We need to figure out what happened that day and what exactly Jeyne is planning. I’m going to invite her to lunch this weekend. You will try to make Robb tell you what happened. The sooner the better. After we have these facts we can think what to do next. We just can’t let anyone know we’re doing this.”

“Plausible deniability. I have to say, I’m interested to be a part of one of Sansa Stark’s schemes, curious to see what we’re going to do next. Are we going to plant fake text messages on her phone? Find an evil ex who’ll come take her back?”

“You’re thinking too far ahead, Snow. No one can plan anything without knowing all the facts. Besides, I don’t scheme. I simply do what I have to do to get what I want…” She looked at his book again and shook her head slightly, looking back to him. “Thanks… For looking after Robb. I know we don’t get along…”

“You don’t like me, of course we don’t get along.”

“Oh, shut it, I’m actually trying to be nice. My siblings are important to me and no one else seems to see what we see. It means a lot to me that you actually care for Robb. I was wrong about you.”

“Are you ever going to admit it in front of other people, or stop making fun of Brooklyn, though?” He raised one eyebrow.

“Never. I have standards. Brooklyn is still awful. And you’re still a pretentious hipster. Even if it’s a hipster who cares about my brother.” She smirked.

“Ouch, that hurt.” He placed both hands over his chest and she found herself chuckling at how dramatic he was.

“I have to go. Are we clear on what we have to do?”

“Yes, general. We’ll keep in touch. Secretly.”

She nodded, stood up and turned her back to him so she could leave, but changed her mind, turning back to him.

“One more thing… Ygritte hates poetry. Don’t even try using Sonnet XVII on her, it would be a waste of a perfectly great poem.” He looked at her surprised and she left, feeling quite satisfied with herself.

 

\------------2-------------

She stepped outside, standing beside Jon as he looked around, avoiding looking at her at all costs.

“How long have we known each other?” She decided to break the silence first, then, if he was going to be a child about it.

“10 years.” He said softly, finally looking at her.

“That’s a long time of knowing someone and being a complete bitch to them.” She nodded. “Especially when they did nothing to offend you or anything.”

“I did plenty to offend you.” He chuckled.

“Only after I did it first. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You were twelve. You didn’t know any better…”

“My siblings knew better. I have no excuses, only apologies.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Sansa. I haven’t even given you a proper chance to…”

“Just forgive me, Snow.” She chuckled.

“Ok. I forgive you.” He relented, offering her a rare smile.

“Good, I was tired of holding that in.” She admitted, feeling suddenly quite lighter.

“You didn’t have to… I’ve been a bit unfair to you today, so I apologise too.”

That had definitely surprised her. She didn’t expect him to apologise for anything he had done today, after all, it hadn’t been nearly as offensive as what she was apologising for. She watched as he picked up a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighted one up, offering her one, which she refused.

“Those are awful, Jon, honestly. If you’re going to smoke, you should at least pick a better brand.”

That made him laugh.

“There she is, the remains of the old Sansa. You sound more like yourself.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Jon, I thought we were bonding.” She chuckled, though, getting the joke.

“You know, we shouldn’t have had such a hard time bonding, at least not after a while. Remember when you told me not to recite Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet XVII to Ygritte? That was an excellent opportunity. And I should have listened to you.”

The memory had her laughing, and she punched his arm gently.

“You should. I knew Ygritte well enough, we were in the newspaper and the archery club together. Every time I suggested we started a poetry section she’d pretend to aim an arrow at me later.”

“You were in the archery club?” Jon sounded so surprised with the discovery that she had another laughing fit.

“Of course. I had to be in some form of sports club, or else I wouldn’t be living up to my last name. Archery involved less moving around like a crazy person. Of course, I was awful next to Ygritte. I heard she qualified for the Olympics.”

“She did?”

“Don’t you read the AHA newsletter?”

“I avoid it like the plague, actually.” He admitted sheepishly, though it didn’t surprise her.

“Well, we happen to have a handful of Olympians among our ex-classmates. Ygritte and Arya, you know about Arya, of course. Loras is going with the equestrian team and Asha and Theon are swimming.” Jon looked at her, looking flabbergasted.

“I can honestly say I never expected Theon to do something as impressive with his life.”

“He almost didn’t, you know. After his accident. But he was always a great swimmer and it definitely helped him with everything he's been through. We went to one of his events last year, and it’s quite amazing how fast he can go, considering he’s lost a hand and part of a leg. I think he can medal.”

“I guess I missed a lot.” He was suddenly sad.

“You did…” She hesitated a bit before going into what had bothered her the most. “You never… You never asked what happened after you left me home that day.”

“Sansa… We don’t have to talk about it.”

She looked at him and it suddenly hit her that he was much more uncomfortable talking about that day, about Joffrey and the abuse and the part he had played, than she was now. Of course, he had helped her and ran away from it, from her family and her and their gratitude, and although for three years she had wanted have the opportunity to thank him, she had never really asked herself why that chance hadn’t showed up. She now wondered if there was something else, something about Jon that made him not want her thanks.

“I do, have to talk about it, Jon. But it doesn’t have to be now.” She said.

He looked at her and she thought she detected some sort of guilt in his eyes, but he soon averted them.

“I’m happy we can start this again. Our… whatever it is. Especially because I need your help.” He looked back at her. “Your siblings are mad at me and I need to figure out a way to make it up to them.”

“But Jon… That’s so easy… I can’t believe you didn’t figure it yourself. You host us a dinner, of course.” She smirked and he smacked his forehead.

“Of course. Just one small problem, I can’t really cook.”

“I’ll help you. Text Robb and Arya and call my parents, tell them to be at your place at 8 p.m. this Saturday, Leave the rest to me.”


End file.
